Thunder Roads Magazine MO/So. IL 2017-November - Page 16

Safety FIRST
It was starting to appear as if the State of West Virginia had intentions
on me being grounded for the night. As I crossed the state line from
Pennsylvania, I noticed West Virginia had a rather less-than standard
By Matt Thomason
surface to their highway. While appearing to be a relatively recent overlay
of asphalt on the road surface, I was surprised at how wavy the surface
It dawned on me recently that I have been riding a motorcycle, of some
was. I wouldn’t call it rough, but it wasn’t easy to keep a straight line going
sort, for about 35 years. I have to say about 35 years because I really
on my motorcycle. I found that particularly annoying. While rolling off my
don’t know the exact age at which I started riding, but it seems to be a
throttle and slowing my speed to accommodate for the change in road
reasonable guess because I just can’t imagine Mother allowing my brother
surface I sensed a different feel to the ride and handling of my bike. Pay-
and I to ride our own bike before our legs could touch the ground when
ing attention to your bike’s sounds and being in tune with the way your bike
sitting on that bike. The day finally came where she relented and my
feels on the road will save your bacon and backside. It certainly did in this
brother and I spent evenings, weekends, and summers tearing around our
case. While the waviness of the road did create for a little wobbling and
own hundred-acre-wood home on our Sears & Roebuck motorcycle frame
bobbing, it wasn’t enough to suddenly create the instability I was feeling in
with a pull-start Tecumseh engine. Maybe you had something similar in
the seat of my bike. It was as if my back tire suddenly turned to JELL-O at
your youth. The braking system left a lot to be desired, but was fantastic
70 miles-an-hour.
for locking up the back tire and sliding through the gravel in our driveway
“Is this the road? This isn’t the road. What is happening here?”
or the dirt on our trails through the woods. You see, to stop the bike, you
In the couple seconds that I was processing all that, I found I had cau-
would push down on the brake pedal and it would position a big wedge-
tiously squeezed the clutch handle, checked mirrors and was checking for
shaped piece of steel against the tread of the back tire causing so much
traffic around me. It was a reflex. I didn’t even have to think about it, but
friction that every stop of the bike was a sliding stop. It was especially fun
I’ve had plenty of time to think about it since. My immediate thought was,
doing that on the smooth surface of the sidewalk leading up to the front
that this had to be tire failure, and of good friends who were killed several
porch on the house, but our red-headed mother would scold us, without
years earlier when a tire blew on their motorcycle, at highway speeds,
mercy, for the black marks we left on it.
while returning home from their dream trip to the Sturgis rally in South
Needless to say, we went through a few rear tires before we finally out-
Dakota. Motorcycle riding has inherent risks. That is one of them.
grew that bike. But then, as I look at the bikes in my garage and the list of
“People die from this. Don’t brake! Don’t die, Matt. Just don’t die. Umm...
others that are on my “To Have One Day” and “Gosh, That Would Be Fun
hazard lights. Don’t brake!”
to Jump over a Dozen Cars” lists, I wonder to myself about whether I really
Having no idea what was happening with my tire, if that is what it was, I
ever outgrew it.
pictured my wheel slowing down with brake application, but the tire contin-
It was near Nirvana having all that land on which to learn to ride. There
ued spinning at highway speed. While the brake system of my late-model
was no traffic, no stoplights, and since we were on our own property, it was
Road Glide is vastly superior to the steel wedge of my Sears & Roebuck
easy to push the bike back home if something went wrong with it. More
bike of yesteryear, anti-lock brakes do no good in that situation. Braking
times than not, though, we would find ourselves leaving the bike sitting
would surely mean catastrophe.
in the woods to go find Dad and he would come help us recover the bike
God pulled his puppet strings on me a little extra tight in that moment
back to the house to fix whatever was wrong. Sometimes we could identify
and kept me upright until I was out of harm’s way and parked on the gravel
and fix the problem in the woods, other times we couldn’t. There were a lot
shoulder. The road had a downhill slope and the roadside ditch was deep.
of things that went into deciding whether to fix it where it was or whether to
For all the detail I recall of when it first happened and the mental process-
go get help.
ing I went through roadside, I can remember none of getting off the road. I
I started thinking about that old bike on a recent Friday evening while
don’t recall dodging traffic. I don’t recall the feel of the bike as I leaned it to
sitting on the shoulder of west-bound Interstate 70, just outside Valley
the right. I don’t recall how long it took to get there. That just tells me that
Grove, West Virginia. My bike was loaded down with luggage, tools, and
it wasn’t me doing it. Draw your own conclusions, but start by looking at the
other items that 35 years of experience and training have taught me to
first word of this paragraph.
have when riding. I was on the final leg of an 11-day ride up to Wisconsin
As I dismounted my bike, I noticed a giant green roadside sign just up the
and the “mitten” of Michigan, through Ontario, and over into New England.
hill from where I parked. From the backside, I had no idea what it said, but
The plan for that evening of the return trip was to find a warm, dry bed and
for me, it was a sign of hope. At this point, I still had no idea what had hap-
a hot meal in Indianapolis, and then make an easy ride in to home a day
pened with my bike. My experience and training told me it was tire failure.
early. I was really looking forward to that evening of relative luxury. Much
Lying down in the ditch to assess the situation, with darkness falling along
of this trip had been rain-drenched from a pesky cold-front that Canada
with a light rain, and a convoy of tractor trailers roaring by, I was about to
sent to chase me out of their country, followed by the remains of Hur-
find out.
ricane Harvey as it moved up from the Gulf of Mexico, up the Blue Ridge
In the next article, we’ll continue the story and discuss the processing of
Parkway, and out to sea. Instead, in a matter of seconds, I was 574 miles
the options I had and how preparedness allowed me to get home, and live
from home with an impressively-sized hole in the rear tire of my 900-pound
to ride another day.
touring bike. It was a cloudy evening, so there wasn’t a lot of light to see
“...and HEY! Let’s be CAREFUL out there!”
or be seen. It was getting even darker out as dusk was approaching, and
so was another wave of rain. (Insert your favorite colorful metaphor here. I
sure did.)
When Everything Goes Right - Part 1
Thunder Roads Magazine 14
Thunder Roads Magazine 15